The skin of the angelshttps://theskinoftheangels.wordpress.com
"One final thing I have to do… and then I’ll be free of the past." —John ‘Scottie’ FergusonSun, 18 Mar 2018 16:42:29 +0000enhourly1http://wordpress.com/https://s2.wp.com/i/buttonw-com.pngThe skin of the angelshttps://theskinoftheangels.wordpress.com
Another birthdayhttps://theskinoftheangels.wordpress.com/2018/03/17/another-birthday/
https://theskinoftheangels.wordpress.com/2018/03/17/another-birthday/#commentsSat, 17 Mar 2018 18:37:45 +0000http://theskinoftheangels.wordpress.com/?p=1335

Ok: that so dear friend told me something about another meaning of the word “dew” in Japanese language.
I wrote this stuff for that friend …

You were smile of the dew
upon green winter grass
You were light happy rain
in my spring among nights

You were dream in my life that runs fast toward death. That’s my sin: to be there empty mask withouth flesh

February, 1st 2018

]]>https://theskinoftheangels.wordpress.com/2018/02/17/avatars-dew/feed/3judybartonOn the radio – A photo by Karma Weymannhttps://theskinoftheangels.wordpress.com/2018/02/10/on-the-radio-a-photo-by-karma-weymann/
https://theskinoftheangels.wordpress.com/2018/02/10/on-the-radio-a-photo-by-karma-weymann/#commentsSat, 10 Feb 2018 19:03:12 +0000http://theskinoftheangels.wordpress.com/?p=1307
On the radio, work by Karma Weymann

She is lost in a sad radio soundlovely girl, young pale skin without shamemaybe thinking at something as blamemaybe waiting for someone as bound

She is lost in a past radio soundlooking at somewhere, when she had claimto be happy, alive, when her aimwas to be owned, taken, so wound

She is lost in a love as a boundstockings are as red passion, as flameher chest needs to be handled: the frameof a lost true big love never found

I am lost in a sweet dream, a songfrom the past, lovely friend with no shame,I am thinking to you as a flame.We could think to be love, to be bound

We were lost in a sad radio sound.I could not more be lie in a framewhere now each thing is changing to pain.I want that you be happy and not wrong

I’m not able to work today. I always control my mail and your blog.
My soul is emplty, full of fog.
My eyes are wet.
My heart is somewhere, lost, painful.

I was so selfish and so cruel to you: I was your evil. I knew it.
I did it anyhow.
In my language, it’s a mortal sin.
I built your evil. I hurt you.
Let me dedicate to you this song by Vasco Rossi, sang by Fiorella Mannoia.

That’s my bad translation of the lyric.

Sally walks on the street even without looking at the ground Sally is a woman who no longer wants to make war Sally has suffered too much Sally has already seen what can collapse upon her Sally was already punished for each distraction and weakness for each honest caress given just to not feel bitterness

Feel that it’s raining outdoor feel its so nice noise

Sally walks on the road and she’s firm thinking about nothing by now she looks at the people with indifferent manner those moments when a glance moved upsets and when life was easier and strawberries could also be eaten are far away because life is a shiver that flies away it’s all a balance around the madness around the madness

Feel that it’s raining outdoor feel its so nice noise

Yet, Sally, maybe is just this the sense, the sense of your wandering maybe really we must feel ourselves a little bad at the end maybe at the end of this sad story someone will find his courage to face the sense of guilt and delete them off from this trip to really live each instant and every its upset as it were the last one

Sally walks on the road with light steps now it is evening the streetlights lights up all the people run to home in front of their televisions and a seed comes into her mind maybe her life was not completely lost maybe something was saved maybe really not everything was wrong maybe it was right so maybe, maybe yes What do you want I tell you?